Lustrous Tears
By: Mango


She walked down the dark streets in the misty evening, traipsing through the sidewalk traffic and wringing her hands as she walked the cold avenues in a sorrowful daze.  Her dress and bare feet were no match for the frosty November winds that pulled at her lengthy black hair and bit at her ruddy cheeks as she wandered about the streets; the chilly gusts whisking a few strands out of her blank face as she contemplated how her life had been falling apart.

No amount of training could’ve prepared her for what was happening to her world.  No level of disciplining could’ve rehearsed her for the inevitable destruction of her reality, yet she knew she should’ve been expecting it; it was a running habit of her family to do such things.  Yet, she never figured herself to fall victim to that castaway feeling, at least not three times in the same lifetime.  She honestly thought he was different from the rest of them, thought he was always going to be there, that her world would become secure in his arms.  So she gave him everything, her heart, her body, her mind, her time.  She was even more than willing to accommodate him and his new desires, changing her whole lifestyle just for him, just to keep him.  Yet, somehow, for some reason, all her efforts weren’t enough, and she was in the wrong.  That’s what I get for being so blinded, she thought, like a little girl.

She walked past the theater, the park, the café, and the schools; walking about aimlessly like the orphan she finally felt she was.  She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she couldn’t stay in the same house with him anymore; it wasn’t her house, there was no more love there for her, there was no reason for her to stay.  On and on she went, walking past stores and cars until the area grew more and more familiar.  She stumbled through an intersection, almost being run over by a passing Honda.  Yet, as the driver cursed her and shook his fist, she looked at him with her cold blue hues, trying to peer through him with their doll-like stare, looking as if she wanted to say something to him, but turned from him and continued on her way.  

She moved on, her feet growing numb with cold, her body shivering as she cursed herself for not bringing a sweater or a jacket.  Before she knew it, she found herself, almost magnetically, standing in front of the condominiums, in the exact spot she witnessed the raging fires dance and laugh at her, celebrating the theft of her joyous life.  She looked up at the concrete tower, spotting the charred remains of her last home, looking up to it nostalgically, like the sanctuary it once was.

She stepped into the foyer of the building and rode the elevator upward, pressing the button to the top floor.  She shuddered slightly as the elevator jolted, continuing to recollect and regain her senses.

The condo burned down several years ago, with both her parents inside.  The building manager was never able to remodel it, because something always went wrong whenever he made an attempt, plans would go missing, or a significant worker always had some sort of mishap.  Something substantial to the rebuilding always went awry, so he’d finally given up and condemned that particular floor of the building.  Many of the workers had begun to spread rumors of the floor being hexed by her father’s demonic spirit.  “I knew they didn’t call him Oni-san for nothing,” she heard one of them say.  

She shuddered as she thought about it, laying against the cool surface of the elevator’s floor.  At that moment, she wanted to go see it again, the old apartment.  As charred as it probably was, she was certain it was still recognizable.  She sat up, reaching to press the old floor number.  Yet, there was no button there.  All the other floor numbers were there, except the one she wanted.  It looked as if it were cemented down to look like the rest of the elevator.  He must’ve wanted to deter everyone from visiting the floor accidentally, she thought as she slowly withdrew her hand.   As she continued to ride the elevator upward, a strange kind of anxious despair filled her stomach, the same kind that she felt at the funeral, knowing these actions were taking without her parents’ consent, knowing this was something they would not have wanted.  

She could recall the ceremony.  It was beautiful, yet she had no part in the planning.  She was fourteen after all, grieving and withdrawn; who was going to listen to her?  The whole family helped with the service; Miki-obasan had taken charge of organizing everything.  She’d help organize their wedding; she saw it her personal duty to make sure they had a proper funeral.  Christina-obasan, with a little coaxing, agreed to perform the ceremony.  They’d both told her that there was nothing to worry about, all she had to do was to show up the day of the funeral.  Chaoii- and Ryu-otooji were very attentive to her, along with Kaine- and Kyone-juukei, who always offered a place at their home.  Yet, in the end, she stayed with “him”, wanting to be as close to her parents as possible, and, to her, being by his side twenty-four seven was just as good as being in her momma’s presence.  
Yet, when the day of the actual service had arrived, nothing seemed to be right.  The flowers all seemed to be the wrong color, the service hall wasn’t clean enough, it didn’t even seem like the ceremony was being taken seriously enough.  Everything seemed to be awry.  At first, she began to complain quietly to herself, but as the service continued, her anger began welling up inside her until she felt she was overwhelmed in it and could barely breathe.  When it came time for her to walk past the caskets, it was then she’d discovered the horrible fact that they were going to send her father to the afterlife without his glasses; they all knew he couldn’t see a thing without them!  

They aren’t thinking of them through the whole thing, she thought.  They're just interested in getting rid of them.  

She had never felt such fury before and right in the middle of the ceremony she threw a tantrum.  She began turning things over, knocking down flower arrangements, dismantling chairs.  Her grief took her far enough to begin tearing her own clothes, feeling the black and gray ensemble was too festive for the occasion.  It took at least four of them to restrain her and drag her out of the sanctuary, yet only “he” could actually get her to calm down.  He held her close, letting her snivel and cry all over him until she fell asleep.  It was from that point on that she felt that Gabriel could do no wrong, and she vowed there was nothing in this world she wouldn’t do for him.

Fresh tears streaked down her face as the scene played through her mind, newfound embarrassment surfacing.  How could she have been so foolish?  She turned over on her back slightly, looking up at the bright lights in the ceiling above.  How could she had lived so happily, yet have the rug tugged from under her so suddenly?  

Quickly, she formed a plan in the back of her mind and mustered up the strength to sit up.  She watched the numbers change slowly, her stomach growing tighter the closer the car got to her desired floor.  When her floor came around, she smashed the emergency stop button and shimmied out the car through the trap door in the ceiling.  It was quite a trial to get the doors to the floor open, yet it didn’t take too much effort.  The doors were beginning to rust and the floor in its entirety was unkempt due to unfinished construction, so after a good tug or two, the doors came apart like a pair of loose teeth.  She crawled onto the floor, standing a little shakily.  
She looked about the hallway, and to her surprise, it looked almost untouched.  Yes, the wallpaper was peeling and there was dust in random places, but it was a lot more recognizable than what she had dreamed it to be.   However, as she walked down the hallway to where she remembered her home to be, it grew darker and colder.  She wrapped her arms about herself to retain the little body heat she had left and pressed on forward.  The closer she got, the colder and darker it became.  The walls were growing scorched in appearance and the odor of burnt wood and plaster filled the air.


“Mummy!  Mummy where are you going?!”  I remember tugging on his shoulder as he moved past the police blockade.

“I’ve got to go get your father!  He’s ill, I can’t leave him alone up there!”  He tried hard to writhe from my grip.

“Mummy!  No!  Let them take care of it!  That’s their job!  Mummy no!”  

“Sweetheart, I have to go!  Your Papa needs me!”  

I remember the tears that streamed down my face as I looked at the back of his head, the heat of the fire above beating down on the whole crowd of spectators below.  I clenched onto his arm tightly, begging and pleading for him to stay.
“Mommy, please don’t go!  Please!  You’ll never come back!  Please!”  I cried hard against him, squeezing and pleading, “Please, Mommy, please!  I don’t wanna be alone again!  I want you to stay here with me Mommy!  Please!”

Finally, with what he could muster, he pulled and tugged his arm away from me and turned to look at me, tilting my head up so he could look into my eyes.  

“Sweetheart, you’ll never be alone alright?  When your Papa and I took you from that orphanage, we took you so that we could all be together forever.  So no matter what, we’ll always be with you, and we’ll always love you.  Alright?”

I gave him a nod and forced a small smile, full of hope that he’d return, but dreading the fact that the chances of that were very thin.  He kissed my face and wiped my tears away, vanishing into the apartment building with nothing more than that beautiful smile that I adored so much.  As I watched his back grow farther and farther away from me, I remember I couldn’t help having a sudden feeling of deja vu.  Several minutes later, I remember hearing three gunshots; one from a handgun, the other two from a pistol.  Many people don’t remember hearing the shots, but I heard them as if they were happening right next to my ears.

Yet, most of all, I remember never seeing the both of them again...